Elixir Vitae

The Night Before Cassoulet

2013-01-15T13:13:00.001-08:00

The Night Before Cassoulet

We were in Napa for the cassoulet, but after all, you have to eat every night of the week, so off we went to the trendiest foodie place in Yountville, Redd Wood, for dinner for six: Lou and BettyLu, Jason and Lynn, and Roxi and moiself.

The place was packed on a Friday night, of course, but we had made a rez so we were good.

The food was great---Italian-ish with lots of cured meats and tasty thin-crust pizzas, hearty salads and good selection of flavors. It’s the kind of joint where you could go there several times and end up never having a main course item---the appetizers are many and there’s an Italian abbondanza of gargantuan proportions. Some of them are bigger than Thor Iverson’s head.

Jason and Lynn got there early so I grabbed a taste of his starter glass of Miner Sangiovese. Decent enough, albeit on the light, polite side with fresh cherries; not much depth or persistence though. And the problem was that it immediately preceded what Lou pulled from his magic bag, a bottle…no, wait, two bottles…of William Fevre Chablis Grand Cru Les PreusesChablis 2005.

It was in good form, although muted in minerality and apple tanginess and low in the expected citrus zinginess. Chewy texture, solid body, but sedate, with some actual butter and cream notes coming out. Could be in a tame phase, or could be the vintage. The impression of maturity is there, so I wouldn’t hesitate to drink this up if I had it. Not an oyster wine, but went quite nicely with the arancini and the salt cod fritters piled on a mass of beans and fritture (that was the one bigger than Thor’s head).

The next treasure to emerge from the magic bag was an unalloyed delight of a big bad bruiser of a wine turned elegant and sophisticated: Altesino Brunello di Montalcino 1990. This must have been one intense and compact wine when first released, because it still has power and mass to spare; and time has been kind to it, beveling off all the edges, smoothing out any rough spots. It is perfectly poised and balanced, with all its elements working together so beautifully that it seems seamless on the palate: rich and smooth and fruity, with earth lurking underneath, and that odd but altogether lovely scent of old dried roses pressed in a book. This wine is way too easy to drink and the bottle’s down to its dregs before you know it.

….Which is why it’s so great that the magic bag also contains another Tuscan delight, the Fontodi Vigna dal Sorbo Chianti Classico Riserva 1997. This one is just now starting to show its age a bit, but it has one final surge of richly fruited cherry pie aromas for us before it settles firmly into that lean acid-driven tomato-friendly acidity that matches so well with our anchovy and tomato pizza with just the right amount of char to make things interesting.

The server solicited dessert, but sated as we were, the Fontodi served that purpose for us and we drank it…literally…to the dregs.

Allium Redux: wherein we revisit one of our favorite eateries

2012-08-05T18:16:00.001-07:00

There are some truly outstanding restaurants in Portland. Fortunately for foodies, there are some equally outstanding restaurants in the Portland ‘burbs too.

Allium Bistro in West Linn has to be ranked as one of the most outstanding, whether urban or ‘burban. West Linn and Lake Oswego residents have no trouble flocking to the place, since it’s always busy and bustling. If Portland foodies and hipsters ever find it, they’ll have lines out the door and down the block.

Chef/Owner Pascal Chureau has had an…interesting…history on the Portland restaurant scene (and he’s back in that downtown scene again with Brasserie Monmartre), and when he decided to open a place in the bedroom community along the Willamette, many thought he had semi-retired to bucolic bliss and an unchallenging cuisine.

They were wrong.

On a relatively quiet tree-lined boulevard just off I-205 Chureau and his chefs are dishing out some of the finest plates you’ll enjoy in the Portland metro area.

When you first walk in, Allium doesn’t seem all that special. It’s pleasant enough with its deep gold walls and heavy-on-wood décor, but it’s not much more than a fairly standard suburban neighborhood restaurant, just a bit fancier. The wine list is very good…but not great. The cocktail program is limited but appealing, with some creative variations that are extremely enjoyable and occasionally daring.

All in all, a pleasant experience in a great neighborhood bar/restaurant.

Then the food begins to arrive. And suddenly everything changes.

Pommes frites

While sipping at an utterly delicious Lucien Albrecht BrutRosé Cremant d’Alsace (which has to be one of the best all time pink bubbly sparkler values, ever, but especially so on the first day of an unprecedented hot spell), we munched contentedly on true honest to god Belgian-style pommes frites in the traditional white paper cone, crispy outside and piping hot and creamy-soft inside and slathered with sea salt (you can also order them with duck fat and rosemary or truffle oil!) and irresistible; food you wish you could simply inhale, and then you try your best to do just that.

The Brut Rosé was kicked up a notch with the next arrival, a short wooden skewer impaling four perfectly char-grilled shrimp resting on a bed of slightly dressed greens delicately touched by Serrano pepper and tilted up on a wedge of ripe watermelon. It was as perfectly balanced an appetizer as you could wish, and performed exactly as a true appetizer should---to appetize, to make one ready for what is to come, to stimulate the palate and the imagination.

This was as precisely balanced an arrangement of appetizing flavors as one could possibly wish: plump sweet shrimp with just the right amount of char, bursting fresh greens with the lightest perk of pepper flavor imaginable and sweet, ripe watermelon, all mixed in with the Albrecht pink sparkler.

[One should note the use of the Serrano pepper---which also shows up in one of the cocktails, by the way. It’s a sign of the brilliance of Chureau’s approach to food. There’s almost no heat to the pepper; it’s used as a very light condiment to add flavor to the greens and offset some of the fruit sweetness of the watermelon. And the use of the pepper is a testament to the knowledge of food: a slight bit more and the dish would have been overwhelmed; a slight bit less and it would not have attained that marvelous balance of delicious flavors. It was the difference between “good” and “vibrant.”]

The two main dishes were equally outstanding, an iron skillet of paella that was simply everything a paella should be and frequently isn’t, and what may be the single best and most satisfying plate of pasta I’ve had in the Pacific Northwest.

Paella at Allium

If you haven’t had Allium’s paella (a local favorite with the faithful), then you need to try it. It’s as simple as that. It’s one of the most ultimate comfort foods there is, and nobody does it better.

The pasta, a bowl of pappardelle in a tomato sauce, made me feel for a moment I was back in Italy. Fresh, bright, precise flavors of tomato, spices, peppers, and a toothy, al dente, and eggy pappardelle flat noodle were combined in, once again, perfect balance. The tomato juices, not quite a broth and held together with juicy morsels of fresh tomato flesh, were rich and bright with acidity and bursting with lovely flavor, and the broad, flat pappardelle were perfectly made, perfectly cooked, and perfectly served at the peak of texture and flavor.

For extra delight, they have one of our mutually favorite white wines by the glass at Allium, and it proved the ideal foil for both dishes. The new vintage of the 2011 Chateau Guiraud “G” Sauvignon Blanc, a dry white from the producer of Sauternes, was more herbal and less mineral and less vibrant than previous renditions, but it still had searing acidity and accompanied both dishes nicely.

For dessert, we enjoyed Pastry Chef Kim Wilson’s Hazelnut Chocolate Mousse, a creamy concoction paired nicely with a healthy dollop of crème fraiche for excellent contrast, and a delicious multi-layered orange olive oil cake with marcona almonds. [If you’ve never had or made olive oil cake, look for a good recipe; it makes a superb fruity-rich and moist cake batter.]

As we were about to leave our leisurely repast, we overheard the waiter asking the nearby foursome how their meal was. All mouthed their appreciation, but the lady in the group volunteered “This is the best meal I’ve had all year!”

I expect they hear that frequently at Allium.

[Note: One of the all time great meal bargains in the metro area is Allium’s frequently offered Family Meals, where Chureau serves his plates a la famille at big tables (wine included or you can bring your own) for astonishingly low prices. You have to pay attention when they’re announced, though, as the word is out, and they sell out fast whenever they are offered.]

Revisiting Pisco Encanto

2012-07-19T11:55:00.000-07:00

Was it a momentary passion, or was it enduring love? Was it a crush, or did it become a lifelong thing? If you liked it that much then, would you like it that much now?

These are the kinds of questions that persist when anyone sets themselves up as a critic or commentator or judge. If you make value judgments, do you show good judgment, and do those judgments have value? The critic hopes to say “Yes!” to both those questions, so the occasional validation is both reassuring and sweet.

This critic wrote a column extolling the virtues of Campo de Encanto Pisco Acholado back on November 11, 2010. Here’s what the original article said about Encanto Pisco:

Campo de Encanto is Pisco Acholado, a brilliant combination of Puro and Aromatico that achieves a fresh, rich, silky-textured aroma and flavor profile that is bound to please even the most demanding palate. It is both fruity and spicy; soft and peppery; clean yet aromatic; and manages a perfect balance of flavors.

The first impression was of a fresh, lovely musky perfume of fruit with precise balance and excellent mixability. Second, third and fourth impressions were equally powerful, to the extent that it was promoted as “the best pisco you’ll taste”.

Some readers took issue with the bold statement, but the critic stood his ground, secure in his judgment.

[And if it feels weird to read about me talking about myself in the third person, it feels a hell of a lot weirder to me.]

In May, 2012, the critic traveled down to Pomona to be a judge at the Los Angeles International Wine & Spirit Competition. One category assigned to the judge’s panel was Brandy.

This was a blind tasting, so the judges knew nothing of the competitive participants other than the basic category description and the type. All brandies were allowed to participate in the category, with subdivisions according to type and age. There were up to 28 types allowed and this particular competition included pisco, pomace, aged continuous still brandies and aged pot still brandies.

On this day, with this panel, three brandies were awarded Gold Medals. Only one brandy was awarded a Gold Medal, Best of Category, and Best of Division, with all judges awarding a Gold Medal and a score of 90 points: Campo do Encanto Pisco Acholado.

The judges were unanimous in their praise for and appreciation of Encanto Pisco. One judge in particular was quite pleased his prior assessment was replicated in a blind tasting, and his personal reactions were in accord with all he had said previously about this brandy.

However, this column is properly more about the brandy than the critic, as it should be. And this prestigious Triple Gold Medal and high numerical score reinforces Campo do Encanto’s success in the marketplace, especially in the hands of professional bartenders who can appreciate the exceptional quality of this spirit and use it to fashion exciting creative cocktails for their customers.

Encanto Pisco has won a bevy of other awards, of course, including the Gran Medalla de Oro “Best of Show” at the XVII Concurso Nacional del Pisco competition in Peru---pretty impressive considering the pisco was going up against all other piscos in the homeland of pisco.

In any spirit, the primary appeal is in the balance of all the components, and Encanto Pisco is the exemplification of balance. An acholada pisco---the Peruvian term for ‘half-breed’---Encanto is a blend of different grapes so that the brandy is fragrant, but not too fragrant of a particular grape variety, and delivers the harmonious combination of all its constituents. Because it is unaged, it reveals the transparent fruit nature of the grapes, the inherent “wine-ness” embodied in a brandy, without any masking or disguise or external enhancement, with all the freshness and vigor of spiritually volatized fruit.

Translation: it’s fresh; it’s tasty; and it’s pure in aroma and flavor.

And now it’s a multiple Gold Medal Winner and Best Brandy at the Los Angeles International Spirits Competition.

Campo de Encanto Pisco Acholado is distributed by Haas Brothers in the U.S.

Time travel at Cognac Ferrand: 1976. 1776, 1840

2012-05-14T09:34:00.000-07:00

Cognac Pierre Ferrand
1776 Cellars

Time is a malleable concept in Cognac. The pace and focus can shift subtly from the now to the then before you’re even aware of it. That’s not surprising when you can visit a maison and walk from the 21^st Century into the 19^th Century and then the 18^th Century within a matter of minutes, traversing hundreds of years of history and culture in a few short steps.

For Americans, who tend to live in the moment, that sensation can be exhilarating. We tend to think of the days of our country’s founding as remote antiquity when in many ways it was merely the blink of an eye in European terms and part of a much longer and richer history that adds color and richness and resonance.

Here age has a taste, the taste of cognac. It has a smell, the smell of old stone and mellow wood infusing, and being infused by, the sweet mingling of fruit and flower and spice summoned by alchemical fire from the grapevines and forests, transformed and contained and concentrated in the liquid that first becomes wine then becomes ardent spirits.

Such an evocative and perfectly descriptive name: ardent spirits. It burns, yes, with the clear blue flame of intensity and purity combined, a liquid that is a vapor, that was entirely gas, but liquid before, a liquid that came from pure water and soil and captured sunlight in a process that, while scientifically defined, is still the most mysterious of nature’s magic, as if fire were captured in water.

New casks
mingle with old

Contain that precious and twice-transformed liquid in a massive, heavy, solid wood barrel—a barrel that is nonetheless deceptively porous to what it contains---that has been heated, cooked, toasted, all to caramelize the natural sugars, creating more transformation which will create even more transformation; hide it away in cool, dark and slightly moist cellars so that time works its secrets in the dim and dark, quietly, slowly, patiently; and after years, decades, lifetimes, decant the concentrated results and with infinite care nurse it back to balance with the slow drip and trickle of water, revive it from its long slumber, quench the fiery, thirsty heart to manageable levels; and capture the tawny gold and caramel colors in a genie’s bottle.

At Cognac Pierre Ferrand in the Grande Champagne it is possible to marvel at the glistening bright and meticulously maintained copper stills, the Alembic Cognacais required by law and custom to make the eau-de-vie, all very modern but emanating from grand traditions of countless grandfathers, all very tidy and ordered and above all, clean, pristine to the point of laboratory standards. Then walk across a graveled courtyard that once supported dray horses and now sports tractors and Range Rovers and into what appears for all the world like a delapidated ruin of gray stone and black fungus.

1976 Cognac
in a 1776 Cellar

But this apparent tumbledown is sturdier, far sturdier, than it looks. Alexandre Gabriel, the proprietor, a tightly contained, enthusiastic and likable man with restless eyes that flicker here and there, observing, annotating, extrapolating, brimming with ideas that defy the length of the day and keep him awake far into the night, casually tells us this cellar was built in 1776, without at first realizing the major import this has to Americans. We all look around curiously, imagining the workers putting the cellar together, stone by laborious stone, as our American identity was being forged by men in gartered pants and elegant silken hose with silver and pewter-buckled shoes who courteously doffed their tricorn hats as they discussed their differences in the language of statesmen and savants.

The most noticeable thing about the cellar, though, is not the stones, impressive as they are in their settled solidity and lumpy fungus-encrusted mass. No, the most impressive thing, instantly, is the dry biscuit smell of old, old wood mingled with the dark earthy aromas that emanate from the hard-packed floor. The imagination creates an impression that the earth is breathing with excruciating slow breaths and there is the weight of mushrooms and black truffles hanging heavy in the air, mingling with the fragrant wisps of faint but present fruit---not apricot, not peach…ah, a white peach, the small squashed white peaches that sometimes grow further south, escaping from orchards to invade vineyards with outlaw trees, tricking the nose and the mind with the mixed aromas of fruit and flowers in delicate interplay.

Gabriel, playfully amused by our wide-eyed American response to the historical significance of the cellar, quirked his lips and pointed to one of the row-on-row barrels arrayed along the gray walls, saying, “We also have a barrel of Grande Champagne Cognac here from 1976,” rushing us forward two hundred years with the turn of our heads. Before we could even comment, Gabriel suggested with his characteristic hospitality and grace, “Perhaps we should taste it?”

And suddenly we were clustered around the barrel as the Cellar Master thiefed the soft amber liquid with the fire inside and eased it into our glasses, releasing a gush of fruit and sensuous spices into the air in vivid, volatile contrast to the placidity of black earth and weathered oak.

We made a pitiful conscious attempt to, if not stop, at least slow down and extend the moment, but we eventually exhausted our glasses with the smallest sips and longest sighs possible, until there was only the spirit of the spirit, the ghost of the ghost, the faint but detectable echo and reverberation of that always-sought but not always-found essence called ‘rancio’.

This is why wine, and brandy, and in the finest way possible, cognac, captures the imagination as no other beverage can: it is the accumulated embodiment of all the elements---sun, water, earth and time---captured and suspended in the heart of fire, ready to be released, defying age by incorporating age, and bridging hundreds of years in a single glass.

An 1840 Cognac
and Ferrand "1840"

In a fitting coda, Gabriel invited us into his chateau for dinner. During the tour we looked over his bedroom-turned-office---so he could jump up restlessly in the middle of the night whenever an idea seized him and work without disturbing his wife--- and saw a long row of bottles around the room. His current project and fascination was the creation of a new version of Cognac Ferrand, the 1840, devised to revive the style of that past century when cognac was the standard drink of the bistros and the bôites, the drink of the common people and not merely some gentleman’s expensive plaything. These were the bottles he had gathered methodically, antiques of the day but still vibrantly alive.

Standing next to the new creation of Ferrand 1840 was a single, dark bottle with a time-worn tattered label, barely legible, almost obliterated, but with a clearly decipherable “1840” in heavy black print. I glanced at the bottle, then at Gabriel in what I now know must have been mute question, not wishing to ask and impose, but he smiled, and nodded his head without hesitation, so I quickly uncorked the bottle and poured out the tiniest possible trickle of pale amber liquid into my glass, only a few drops redolent of fire and flower and fruit and spice, now mostly elegant spice and faded dried and pressed flowers and the eerie smell-sense of having opened the cover of a very, very old historical volume…which, in a way, it was, of course: a volume of time and taste-memory, a brief but vibrant ghost tenuously reaching over the chasm of 172 years to lightly brush my senses.

Only a relative few will be fortunate enough in their lives to taste a cognac from 1840. But thanks to Cognac Ferrand, they can experience the style of that period in the Ferrand 1840, now available in the market, a fitting hommage to a former time.

The Incredible Magical Interconnectivity of Wine

2012-03-21T18:04:00.000-07:00

It was just a glass of wine.

Nothing more than that. Just a glass of wine on a list in a nice little bistro on a rainy evening in Portland, Oregon.

That’s all.

But as some people know, wine can be magic. And that rainy night in Portland a magical moment was created.

The place was Allium Bistro, a delightful restaurant in West Linn, the quiet and unassuming little southern suburb of Portland, Oregon, owned by Chef Pascal Chureau, a quiet and unassuming young man who happens to be one heck of a good chef. You can think of Allium Bistro as a local-purveyor-supplied-with-a-French-Italian-twist kind of place, if you need definitions and niches to put it in…but most of the faithful clientele just think of it as a really great neighborhood restaurant.

The evening was a casual get-together of four friends, all wine aficionados. Nothing special, really; a night out with good food and good wine.

Things began auspiciously when we stepped out of the cold rain and into the cozy warmth and friendliness of Allium, and they looked even better when we settled in to a booth and perused the menu and wine list---good, hearty, wholesome dishes, the kind you’d find in lovely little neighborhood bistros all over France; coupled with a wine list that was both worldly and locally tuned in to support and enhance the food being served.

Don't think about it: just
order the fries.

Another nice touch was the chalkboard carefully listing all the local purveyors that supplied the viands for the evening---Chef Chureau is manic about locally-sourcing the finest ingredients he can---so not only did we know what we were eating, we knew where it was coming from.

Le G

While we perused the menu, we nibbled on hot-to-the-fingers pommes frites lightly dusted with sea salt, and if there’s a better appetizer anywhere than that, I can’t think of what it would be.

Then my wife and I looked up and at each other at the same moment. We had simultaneously noted that the wine list mentioned a Chateau Guiraud Blanc 2009. Or to put it properly,
Le G de Chateau Guiraud.

(Pay attention here: the magical moment is coming!)

When in Bordeaux last fall we had traveled to Sauternes to and had a delightful lunch in the village at. On a blissfully warm day in November under a cloudless sky, we were seated beside a window looking out over the golden slopes of vineyards leading up to the crest of the hill, where sat Chateau Guiraud in quiet glory. To complete this idyllic scene, the wine I had selected for our lunch was….the Chateau Guiraud Blanc Sec 2009, the dry white made by this Sauternes producer.

The lunch was exquisite; the wine even more so. As my wife said at the time, “This is the kind of Sauvignon Blanc that reminds you of everything you could possibly like about Sauvignon Blanc.” And so it was: lemon and grapefruit citrus; nervy and aromatic and herbal and fresh; crisp and lively and mouth-watering; a wine that perfumed the air and livened up the mouth and accentuated the flavors of the foods, snapping everything into a sharp, bright focus, just as the sun on the vineyards was doing outside our window.

And months later, here we were in a bistro in West Linn, Oregon, magically reliving all those golden memories and creating brand new ones. We babbled so much about the wine our two friends made it unanimous and we sat around happily sipping and noshing.

Eventually, the pommes frites ran out and we ordered more substantial fare---rich and meaty boeuf bourguignon studded with carrots and foraged mushrooms and pearl onions on pappardelle pasta; seafood paella; and a magnificent pork chop---more like a lombata di maiale to me---on a bed of cannellini beans.

A stunning Pinot Noir

For that we popped open a bottle brought by our friend Claudia, a big bruiser of Willamette Valley Pinot Noir, the WillaKenzie Estate Terres Basses Pinot Noir 2008 (available only at the winery, so you’ll have to give them a call if you want some, and you probably do.)

Both the beef and the porkchop needed something substantial in wine to match, and the WillaKenzie did the job handsomely. It was tightly packed with fruit on a big frame, bold and muscular and acidic and sour-cherry tart. The foraged mushrooms and the Pinot had a little magic thing going on too. Made a great combination of earthy to earthy.

During the main course, we had to sneak back to the Chateau Guiraud to pair with the Brussels sprouts—Chef Chureau is renowned for his Brussels sprouts, although he says they’re very simple. He sautés the halved sprouts cut side down until they begin to caramelize and crisp a bit, then dishes them up in a heavy ceramic bowl. They may well be the best preparation of Brussels sprouts I’ve ever had; and, of course, the magic combination of the Chateau Guiraud was the perfect pairing too.

All in all, a great evening of fun, food, friends, and a little wine magic West Linn, Oregon, courtesy of Chateau Guiraud, WillaKenzie and Allium Bistro.

And a P.S. to Portlanders: if you're looking for the best meal deal in town...and I mean hands down the best...check out Allium Bistro's "Neighborhood Dinners". They are family style dinners where you'll be astonished at both how much and how good the food is, with wine included, for only $38 per person (grautity extra). But be forewarned: these dinners sell out really fast. Good news is, they have them frequently.

What's in your 12 bottle case? Miguel Figueredo Lancha of Spain

2012-03-03T10:49:00.000-08:00

Miguel Figueredo Lancha is a charismatic, talented, and industrious entrepreneur of the spirits world located in Madrid, Spain, a multinational (Spain and Venezuela) son of a Spanish father and a Cuban mother.

Miguel is one of those guys so filled with energy and passionate about his knowledge that he fills the room with his presence; he describes himself with some understatement as “kind of extroverted and communicative.”

He has a wealth of knowledge of spirits and mixology, deals every day with some of the most exceptional spirits in the world, and trains other people about them. When he’s not teaching he is out in various places---Cognac, Amsterdam, London, New York, the Caribbean---learning more about his profession.

Currently he co-directs the Bar Concept and The Cocktail Room in Madrid, which covers the entire Spanish bartending community, delivering training on spirits, bartending and cocktails; writes for a bilingual blog on the bar industry; and operates a bartending school, bartenders library and store, tasting room and product marketing company.

On top of all that, Miguel is also a very active musician on multiple instruments. Whew.

When asked what his 12 bottle case would consist of, he graciously agreed to take a break from his very hectic schedule and think about it.

This is Miguel’s list:

"This would be my list of the 12 bottles to pick if I were limited to only those ones. As you can see I don't need them all to be the ultimate, most antique, collector bottles, although some nice stuff is appreciated. I thought it was going be a lot easier to pick them, but, wow, it seems I love many other ones... Anyway, I think that with these I could cover a nice session at a party, with cocktails, coolers or neat spirits."

El Dorado 15, demerara rum
Fighting Spirit, agricole rum
Pierre Ferrand Ancestrale Cognac
Del Maguey Tobala, mezcal
Gran Centenario reposado, tequila
Pierre Ferrand dry orange curaçao
Tanqueray Nº Ten, gin
Campari
Port wine: any ruby or tawny
Yellow Chartreuse
Perucchi or Carpano Antica Formula sweet vermouth
1 liter of bottled cold beer

Summing it up, Miguel decides on two rums, a cognac, two agave spirits, a gin, three essential liqueurs often used for cocktails, a bottle of sweet vermouth, a bottle of Port---which could be consumed individually or in a cocktail---and a bottle of cold beer.

A closer look would show that Miguel appreciates intense aromatic complexity in his spirit choices. The omission of anything in the whiskey group is intriguing---although perhaps the wood-aged/grain-based spirit category is simply not one that made the final cut here. (Miguel later appended that whisky was close, but didn't quite make the cut in preference to other spirits he loved.)

There is wood aging evident in the rum and cognac choices, however…indeed, with the Pierre Ferrand Ancestrale Cognac you have approximately 70 years of aging in barrel and glass demijohns.

In any case, should you end up on a desert island with Miguel, he’d be able to step behind a bar and serve up some tasty libations in short order with his 12 bottle case.

Hospitality---Wherefore Art Thou?

2012-02-29T13:38:00.001-08:00

I sincerely hope this becomes a meme and goes viral, or whatever the terminology is. What I hope is that more people in the hospitality industry read and heed. And remember why it's called "hospitality industry."

This is a post, in it's entirety from friend and colleague Maxine Borcherding, blogging on her website blog at Tasteandcompareacademy.com (with which I am deeply affiliated, full disclosure). And since I and my wife were the two other people mentioned standing huddled in the high wind and heavy rain...we took it personally.

Here is Maxine's post. She speaks for the three of us:

Hospitality---Wherefore Art Thou?
Wine and spirits are so often a part of social occasions, especially at restaurants and bars, that when you go to a business to enjoy good drinks, good food, and the company of friends, warm hospitality is something you have a right to expect. So why are we so frequently disappointed?

Last night, it was raining. A cold front was coming in, and the wind was picking up. I’d arranged to meet friends at a well known local lounge at five pm- the advertised opening time.

I arrived at three minutes to five. Looking through the door, I saw two young men sitting at the bar (employees? friends of employees?) and the bartender. The door was locked. I huddled just outside the door and waited.

My friends arrived at two minutes to five. The rain was falling harder. The wind was gusting, blowing the rain under the awning. The young men at the bar and the bartender studiously ignored the three people standing, shoulders hunched, just outside the door.

One minute to five. Door still locked, still being ignored.

Five pm. No eye contact. The door remained tightly locked.

At that point, we left- walked half a block up the street to another restaurant- newer- less well known. It also opened at five, but here, the door was open. We were greeted warmly by a smiling young woman, seated, and immediately approached by a server with menus to take our drink orders. The drinks were well made, the small plates delicious and beautifully presented, the service attentive without being intrusive.

I probably won’t go back to that first place. I’ll more than likely tell others about my experience. My not returning as a customer won’t particularly hurt their bottom line. But if other customers have the same experience, it might.

I wonder why, when a restaurant is successful and expands here, and beyond here to other communities, they so often forget the most basic principle of hospitality and the factor that originally made them successful: that customers will forgive mediocre food and drink, but they will not forgive bad service; and they won’t tolerate being ignored.

Sunday Brunch or Morning After: The Bloody Mary

2012-02-27T20:19:00.000-08:00

Standard Classic Bloody Mary
at the Vespers Bar, Las Vegas

If imitation is indeed the sincerest form of flattery, the classic Bloody Mary must be the most sincerely flattered cocktail ever created. What began as a mix of vodka in tomato juice has mutated into countless versions, from the essential to a bewildering array of bartender signature concoctions and slapdash thrown-together versions that can boggle the mind and stun the palate.

As with many of the classic cocktails, there are any number of creation claims and myths that surround the drink. Depending on which version you prefer, the drink was created originally as a vodka and tomato juice pick-me-up in either the Roaring Twenties or the Depression Era Thirties, by either performer Georgie Jessel, a then famous vaudevillian comic, or bartender Fernand Petiot in a New York bar.

The name is as shrouded in mystery as the creation, with Bloody Mary usually associated with either Mary, Queen of Scots, or Queen Mary, ill-handled Spanish wife of Henry the Eighth, but not excluding various legendary waitresses and celebrities. Truth is, no one knows.

To use the parlance of today: What-ever! What is most likely is the rather dull and simple vodka-tomato combination immediately got spiced up in the hands of a thoughtful drinkslinger, then morphed into a different version or variation every time a new bartender was asked to make one.

The Bloody Mary quickly became the stuff of legend and the mainstay of otherwise staid brunches across the land. It was touted as the nonpareil hangover cure (it isn’t; hangovers can only be preemptively cured by not over-indulging the night before) and gave succor and hope to numberless desperate souls, who profited at the very least from the ingestion of healthy, vitamin rich tomato juice in their diet. It also begat other drinks in biblical quantities, some compelling, some downright painful, and some just silly.

Today the more-or-less-agreed-upon base of a Bloody Mary is vodka, tomato juice, salt, black pepper, cayenne pepper, lemon juice, and Worcestershire Sauce, all vigorously mixed with ice, and often garnished with greenery, a celery stalk being the most common accoutrement. The hundreds of variations on that base seem to focus either on replacing the spirit, the juice and corollary ingredients, or the garnish to create a new signature recipe.

Some spirit substitutions seem obvious and inevitable, such as gin (Bloody Murder) or tequila (Vampiro), or rum (Cubanito). Some not so immediately obvious but now beloved of many, such as Guinness Stout (Bloody Maureen) and any other beer (the much-consumed Michelada). Some just seem bizarre, such as Irish whiskey, Absinthe, Saki, Cabernet Sauvignon (Really? Why?), and Scotch (Bloody Scotsman, which seems to be a waste of perfectly good Scotch to most aficionados of the whisky). And of course, there had to be and so there was, a spirit-free version (unspirited? without spirit?), the Virgin Mary.

When the focus shifts to the other ingredients, again the sky’s the limit, with Worcestershire Sauce being traded out for Tabasco Sauce,A1 Steak Sauce, barbeque sauce, teriyaki sauce, horseradish, wasabi sauce, pain-inducing habanero sauce, and the popular variation (mysteriously so, to some) of Clamato, clam juice mixed with tomato sauce for what is usually referred to as the Bloody Caesar.

Those who like shortcuts, or are in a desperate hurry for the drink to arrive, use branded canned or bottled mixes, which abound nationally, regionally and locally.

There’s even one version of the drink which eradicates tomato juice entirely to substitute…pineapple juice, although cocktail purists have suggested finding the creator of that version and holding a tar and feather party, if not a well-deserved lynching. One would suppose those who consume this variation are also the ones who order something called ‘Hawaiian Pizza’, but little is known of those strange mutants.

The last frontier to be explored in the Bloody Mary was the garnish, with the ubiquitous celery being replaced or added to with dill pickle spears, garlic pickles, caperberries (inspired), bitter melon, olives, stuffed olives, roasted garlic cloves, cherry tomatoes, citrus fruits, radishes, parsley, and sprigs of whatever green thing was in season at the time of construction.

So whether you adhere to the ‘original formula’ or like the daring and adventurous, there’s a Bloody Mary for you out there. Go find it.

Making some noise, Spanish style, at Jaleo Las Vegas

2012-02-25T21:50:00.000-08:00

The Bar at Jaleo

Jaleo is some kind of wonderful.

Haven’t been fortunate enough to get to the original D.C. location of José Andrés’ restaurant, but on a recent jaunt to Las Vegas, we had the opportunity to dine there.

Actually, I made the opportunity. When we locked in the Vegas trip for two nights, I tried to make a res for one night at Jaleo, but it was Valentine’s Day, so no res to be had until after 10:00pm, and us oldsters can’t make it that late (which prompts the question, what is the Senior Early Bird Special for restaurants in Spain, 8:00pm?).

Not deterred in the slightest, we walked up to the hostess at Jaleo and asked if there were any possibilities, any cancellations, any chances at all to get a table. Nope, nada, nyet. No chance at all, sorry…..but as we were walking away, another young lady piped up and said, offhand, “You know, you could try the bar. It’s early; it’s not full yet; and it’s full-service.” So, bless her thoughtful little heart, shortly we were indeed drinking and dining in Jaleo.

Funny thing is, we probably enjoyed it even more at the bar than we would have at table, for we were in a convivial mood, were ready for a lively bar scene (which Jaleo was, in triplicate), a little creative mixology (which that bar staff does superbly), some great food (as in WOW!) and top level people watching.

Sherry anyone?

First delight: the bar staff at Jaleo redeemed the entire Las Vegas Strip and its ability to run a damned good bar. (We had had an unfortunate subpar bar experience which led us to believe that Las Vegas was perhaps a cocktail fail kinda town.) Second delight: some incredible new concoctions of a creative spiritual nature. Third delight: some of the best, most inspiring, and most utterly delightful food we’ve had in a long time.

Imagine our delight, winos that we are, when we noticed there was a page of good…strike that: very good…sherries by the glass. Fino, Manzanillo, Oloroso, Palo Cortado: it was all there. Even better, they were pouring so much of it there was no possibility whatsoever that any of it could have gone stale in the bottle. Wasn’t around that long, not in that restaurant.

With Roxi being satisfied so early because of the sherry list, the evening was bound to be a success. It just kept on getting better and better though.

The cocktail list, which caught my eye, though short, was one of the most inspiring I’ve seen lately, with unique, stylistic flair you could only find in a Jose Andres restaurant. I mean, C’mon, when’s the last time you’ve seen fresh pressed tomato-water listed as a cocktail ingredient?

Sangre y Fuego

Sorely tempted to order several, I manfully restrained myself to one at a time, and started with the Sangre y Fuego, sub-titled as “our take on a Spanish Blood and Sand---but not really.” Who could resist?

One of the best decisions I’ve made all year. And one of the best cocktails I’ve enjoyed in a long time, with every sip a new revelation. I could’ve been Catholic, I was having so many serial epiphanies.

A Sangre y Fuego (Blood and Fire) is a wonderful concoction, the sum of its parts far greater than the recipe list would even suggest, composed of del Maguey Vida Mezcal (use a lesser brand, me bucko, and you’ll have a far lesser drink, so no substitutes here, even if you’re a cheap skinflint), a dry sangria, sweet vermouth (use a good one: tempus fugit) and Cherry Heering Liqueur.

Put these together, then add an exponential component to the top right to signify how powerful they are together (because they are, they are), and you’ve got it.

Roxi elected to go with a Manzanillo first, clean and brisk and salt tangy, and god bless the folks in Jerez. Later she had a Pasada Pastrana that raised the level of the game, followed by an oloroso that kept the level up there.

We ordered a random selection of tapas, with our eyes doing the shopping and supported by some great suggestions from the experienced staff, who not only knew what was good but enjoyed most frequently themselves). Shortly, the piping hot deliveries of small plates applied, dazzling our sense and almost but not quite overloading our sensory faculties.

Our tapas, in randomized order, were:

Jamon and Manchego
and Baguette

A Sammy of a fresh-baked baguette with Jamon Iberico fermin de bellota (the acorn-fed, black footed piggy of Espana than which there is no better jamon in the world) with aged manchego cheese and a light touch of alioli. You don’t need anything better when you have the best ingredients.

Datiles with bacon

Datiles con tocino ‘como hace todo el mundo”
Dates, wrapped in bacon, lightly breaded and fried. Heaven was just a bite away. Damn, this was good.

Empanadillas de brandade
de bacalao

Empanadillas de brandade de bacalao
More like the idea of a sopapilla kind of thing, with a light, delicate deep fried triangle of dough cooked to crisp perfection, stuffed with the most delicate and creamy dried cod brandade you’ll ever have, and the whole thing drizzled in flower honey and all served up piping hot to the fingertips so you had to juggle and nibble at the same time. Exquisite.

Piquillo Relleno

Rapé a la Donostiarra
Translucent wafer-thin discs of monkfish (could have been cheeks, what with the sweet, succulent flavor and texture) fanned on a dish and dressed with garlic, sherry, and parsley oil. Such precise, delicate flavor. Evanescent in the mouth.

Piquillo relleno de ‘txangurro’
Brilliant red piquillo peppers stuffed brimming with Dungeness crab, topped with a piquant bright orange piquillo sauce and a dollop of parsley oil.

Gambas al ajillo
As standard a hot tapas dish as you’ll find, but showing exceptionally well here in competent hands. Shrimp, tails on, cooked in a small iron skillet with a viscous, almost tarry, sauce of garlic and sherry and spices. Rich and mouthfilling with that sweet shrimp undertone beneath the spicy tang. Compulsive eating, followed by delicious Pan de Tomate bread, delightful all on its lonesome but also good for using the crusts to sop up all that remaining sauce that now way should go to waste.

Tomatino Negroni

Somewhere along midway through all this, I exhausted both my restraint and my Sangre y Fuego so had to order another cocktail. Not being able to resist (I find my ability to resist most anything in a good restaurant at unheard of lows.) I succumbed to the unique Tomatino Negroni, a ‘pink drink’ with the obligatory Campari, rich and lovely and pungent Citadelle Gin (from gin made in Cognac alembic stills in the off months, yahoo), sweet red vermouth…and tomato water (or as the restaurant says “What we do with the tomatoes after the fight). Unexpected, but an irresistible cocktail after the first sip.

Both the Sangre y Fuego and the Tomatino Negroni were startlingly good original cocktails, but they weren’t by any means alone the list. There was an intriguing version of a Sidecar that used Brandy de Jerez instead of the original cognac as the base…and what a compelling idea that was! It awaits my trying it when next in an Andrés establishment. Or mayhaps in my very own home.

So: in Washington D.C. or Las Vegas, go to Jaleo. You’ll be glad you did. You might want to just go ahead and sit at the bar. It could be the best seat in the house.

Femme Chinoise at Twist! by Pierre Gagnaire Las Vegas

2012-02-22T13:36:00.001-08:00

In the best of restaurants, the right cocktail can be the beginning of a perfect meal.

High atop the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, overlooking the Las Vegas Strip in all its glitter and neon color, is the serene Twist! By Pierre Gagnaire, a cool modern temple to haute cuisine from one of the great Chefs de Cuisine, Michelin Three Star Pierre Gagnaire.

As befits the Adam Tihany-designed restaurant, the bar is clean and uncluttered, simple and elegant, almost minimalist. The back bar is sparely furnished but impressive and carefully selected brands dominate the shelves.

The Femme Chinoise

The styles of the featured cocktails tend toward clean and simple flavors as well. This is not simply a bar with drinks: it is a bar with drinks designed to lead in to the meal that is about to come. Nothing heavy, nothing weighty, nothing that dominates; clean, simple, light, stimulating and direct is the order of the day here.

A superb example was the Femme Chinoise, a simple, uncluttered combination of Milagro Reposado tequila, German Mosel Riesling and fresh grapefruit, garnished with a long curling peel of grapefruit.

The floral Highlands style of Milagro Reposado, mellowed by a short term in oak barrels and rounded in its combination of herbs and fruits and hint of salt, melds seamlessly with the acidic perk of grapefruit, and the sweet-tart-sour background note of Mosel Riesling, with all three ingredients maintaining a tenuous balance, each reinforcing the other.

To prolong the freshness and intensity of flavors in this delicately composed cocktail, a large round ball of extra-hard ice fills the glass, the slow dilution keeping pace with the slow sip

The other cocktails follow the theme, with clean, fresh, unadorned flavors sharpening the palate, preparing it for the similarly constructed dishes designed by Gagnaire, so the aperitif flows into the appetizers to stimulate the gastric juices, drawing you into the meal, into the experience, into the evening.

In a fine restaurant, every element is precisely arranged to support the entire experience, including a crucial part: the beginning. And the Femme Chinoise is a perfect beginning at Twist! By Pierre Gagnaire.

The Chandelier: All Flash, No Substance

2012-02-20T20:55:00.000-08:00

All That Glitters...

You would think that Las Vegas, the city that bills itself as the center of the glitz and glamour of the universe, the city that has elevated the façade of unending revelry and faux-sophistication to unheard of levels, the city that has worked hard to change its image from sleazy gamblers and shoddy, cynical hustlers to one of worldwide sophistication…you would think such a place would offer the epitome of professionalism in all its showcase establishments.

City Centre

When it comes to bartending, mixology and the cocktail scene you’d think Las Vegas would be at the absolute pinnacle, the top of the game.

And you would be wrong.

Mind you, we’re not talking about the grubby little street level joints hawking beerpong and buffets and frazzled tawdry silicone women with tired eyes. We’re talking the high-end high-roller places, the top of the tower establishments that reek of money with multiple zeros attached. There the façade, the false veneer, is even more apparent. Look closely and the stage show is just as phony, albeit at a higher cost.

Are there good bartenders in Vegas? Yes, of course there are. Some damned good ones. People like Tony Abou-Ganim, one of the best known and most professional in the world, makes this place his home, working tirelessly to create the highest standards in his profession. And there are others.

But not enough.

The Chandelier in Crystals

Take a look at an all-too-typical experience in one of the (literally) most glittering of bars in the city, The Chandelier in The Cosmopolitan Hotel, located in The Crystals Shopping area, a place studded with the shops of the beau monde. Prada, Jimmy Choo, Gucci, Yves St. Laurent, Fendi…they’re all here. And The Chandelier nestles snugly in the center, an astonishing cocktail lounge with its three levels of bars all cocooned by long glittering strings of heavy crystal ropes cascading down from the ceiling of the building to the floor, encasing the lounges inside with the brilliant play of light.

The trouble is, once you get past the glittering crystal, the illusion falls apart. On Valentine’s Day, no less, and at the start of happy hour, only one bar of the three was operating. And one overtaxed and peevish bartender staffed it, with one waitress and a bar back. The barback was taking orders, but had to relay them to the bad-tempered bartender, who spent most of his time racing around the triangular center bar spreading his lack of joy.

When I ordered a Dirty Vodka Martini for my wife, he merely nodded. But when I ordered a Hemingway Daiquiri, he looked at me with obvious disdain and said, “Sir, we don’t do any frozen blender drinks in this bar.” Taken aback, I hesitated, then decided not to pursue the matter and ordered a Woodford Manhattan, up.

He moved down the bar, began mixing the martini and yelled loudly back, “Lady, you want olives or onions in your martini? And just ‘dirty’, right? Nothin’ else?”

The Muddy Manhattan

Having more or less successfully navigated the martini, he then looked around, walked all the way around the three sides of the bar (and past an obvious bottle of Cinzano Rosso at eye level on the back bar), he then yelled in a loud and annoyed voice, “Hey, where’s the vermouth? Anybody seen the vermouth, the red stuff?”

When the vermouth was located and my Manhattan arrived it was quite obvious he had successfully located the vermouth, for the drink was a muddy brownish-red color, mostly vermouth, totally swamping the bold taste of the bourbon and about as out of balance as a Manhattan can be.

A couple sat near us and the man ordered a glass of sparkling wine while the young lady asked for one of the drink specials listed on the cocktail, a signature of the house. The sparkler was served up immediately…and the couple then waited…and waited…and waited. Finally, after at least five minutes had passed, with the woman staring at the bartender and the man looking uncomfortably at his untouched bubbly, the bartender showed up and began mixing the lady’s drink, grumbling that he didn’t care for this cocktail as it was too complicated and took too many ingredients to make.

Since this was one of the specials of the house, and the single bar was only about one quarter full, the comment was, to say the least, strange and out of place.

It got worse.

One customer asked for a glass of Joel Gott Merlot. The bartender looked around and yelled back---apparently yelling was his primary mode of conversation---“Sorry, we’re outta that. What else you want?” Since I could see a three-quarter-full bottle of that very same wine immediately behind him on the back bar, it seemed like an odd thing to say. Then, to another customer who asked about a cocktail on the bar, he said, “Well, that’s a margarita, but I can make it with vodka if you want.”

Another couple at the bar simply sat for several minutes, then got up and walked away unserved. The couple next to us drank up quickly---so much for a nice leisurely conversation over a cocktail in the lounge---threw some money on the table, and left hurriedly with frowns on faces. As we left the bartender continued stomping around the bar aimlessly, not making very good drinks, not very happy with his world, and making sure everybody knew about it.

Such a waste: investing what must have been tremendous money and effort creating a sumptuous cocktail lounge and then not only understaffing it but putting a surly and incompetent bartender in charge of it.

The experience at the Chandelier so poisoned the feel of the evening, we immediately went in search of a better place. Thankfully, we found one---the bar at Jaleo nearby, which was everything The Chandelier was not. And later there was the Vesper Bar, another outstanding watering hole with enthusiastic bartenders.

The Chandelier? May be glittery, but it’s a lousy bar. We’ll never go back. And the best thing they could do at this point is stop relying on the crystalline glitter and start training their people to be polished and professional and attentive to their clientele. While they still have one. If you go to Vegas, take a glance, but stroll on by. It’s a waste of a good bar.

Sélections Laurence Feraud Côtes-du-Rhône, 2009

2012-02-19T14:33:00.001-08:00

Sélections Laurence Feraud Côtes-du-Rhône, 2009

As the Rhone has become more prominent and popular with wine drinkers in the U.S., it has become a bit more difficult to find the more affordable ones with the same level of quality as before. Not impossible, mind you, just more difficult.

The savvy wine shopper has to be aware of the pedigree of the wine or the reputation of the winemaker. That’s where Sélections Laurence Feraud comes in to the picture.

Laurence Feraud is half, or perhaps a little more than half, of the winemaking team at Domaine Pegau (her father Paul is the other half), where they make some of the more sought-after Chateauneuf-du-Pape in the market.

Pegau now inhabits that special marketing niche of “collectors wine”, festooned with both points and dollar signs. While it is more than worthy of all the praise heaped upon it, it might be a little out of reach of the casual drinker down in the 99%, so to speak.

Again, that’s where Sélections Laurence Feraud comes in. Laurence has good connections in the Rhone, so she’s able to find some of the best fruit from each harvest for her personal projects. Laurence is also very fond of the original wine that put the Rhone on the world map: Côtes-du-Rhône.

Côtes-du-Rhône is what most of the people in the Rhone drink on a daily basis. It also constitutes a great deal of what is exported, around France, Europe, and the world, and what is served to represent the Rhone, usually as a “house wine.”

While much of that may range from execrable to average, the Feraud Côtes-du-Rhône is significantly more than that. It is a classy blend of 80% Grenache and 20% Syrah, so it’s bright and fresh on top, a little plump in the middle, and structured enough to be appealing, with cherry fruit graduating to deeper plum and red berries with a little touch of sun-kissed earthiness that every Rhone should have.

That’s a handsome description for a versatile wine in the $11—15 price range around the country. So grab yourself a bottle of Laurence Feraud Côtes-du-Rhône, 2009, and you’ll get a good vintage of tasty, well made wine from one of the better winemakers in the Rhone Valley. Everyone loves a bargain, right?

What's In Your 12 Bottle Case? Bill Buitenhuys

2012-02-11T13:46:00.000-08:00

Bill Buitenhuys is a full-time wine and cocktail enthusiast and an occasional system engineer in Arizona. You can usually find him sitting on a bar stool or creating small batch, handcrafted bitters with his wife, Lillian, in AZ Bitters Lab.

Bill approached his list with the glee of a spirits lover combined with the focused attention of an engineer. He meticulously analyzed his needs and constructed his list methodically so he would be able to satisfy his cravings on that hypothetical deserted island.

And here’s where the shift to mixology is obvious: Bill is particular about his spirits, but his interest is clearly on how those spirits can be used to create cocktails. He begins with the cocktails and then chooses his spirits based on those, and arrives at his ‘best possible scenario’ selection.

Let’s take a look both at his list and his reasoning process for the list:

1.     Sazerac 18yr Rye
2.     Woodford Reserve Kentucky Bourbon
3.     Cocchi Vermouth di Torino
4.     Dolin de Chambery Dry Vermouth
5.     Pernod Absinthe
6.     Hendrick's Gin
7.     Plymouth Gin
8.     Luxardo Maraschino Liqueur
9.     Campari
10. Benedictine Liqueur
11.  ~~Laphroiag 15~~  Pierre Ferrand Esprit des Dieux 1er Cru du Cognac

12. Macallan 25

You’ll note four different liqueurs make the list; all are there to mix with other spirits. And two gins appear; one gin won’t suffice.

You’ll also note that Islay scotch lovers will be horrified to learn their beloved Laphroiag was knocked off the list for a Cognac---but it did make way for an obligatory brandy, and what a spectacular brandy it is!

The Cognac That Knocked
Laphroiag off the list

Interesting as well that the final scotch chosen was the Macallan, a non-peated sherry-oak style, over the smoky peat-monster of Laphroiag. I suspect that would have to do with the greater inherent mixability of Macallan over Laphroiag. I also suspect that will invite violent disagreement from Islay whisky aficionados, who tend to be outspoken about their drams.

Bill reflected a bit after constructing his list:

“I thought this would be easy. Just list out my favorite drinks, tally the bottles, and be done with it.

I'm assuming that seeing I'm on a deserted island that I'd have all the citrus that I'd want at my ready. Given enough time on the island I could make up some infusions and specialty bitters with some of the native fruits, herbs, and roots as well. I know if I go with classics then I can riff into many directions from there.

The Classic Bijou Cocktail

So I start with the drinks I'd never want to be without: Manhattan (rye, good sweet vermouth), Sazerac (add bourbon and absinthe), that perfect 3:1 Martini (add Hendricks and a dry vermouth), Negroni (add Plymouth and Campari), Aviation (add Luxardo), Vieux Carré (add cognac and Benedictine) and lovely options for Highland and Islay whiskey (add Macallan and Laphroiag).

Wait! I'm already at 13 bottles? A beloved Corpse Reviver #2 would require adding Lillet Blanc and Cointreau. The perfectly balanced Bijou Cocktail would require green Chartreuse. I haven't even begun to go after a nice amaro or that crisp, biting grappa. Rum, vodka, and tequila I could live without if I had to but how can I make a Barnum or a Fairbanks without some apricot brandy? And I still have to eliminate a bottle! Let's see. Deserted island. Tropics. I'm thinking I can do without the Islay malt (*shudder*). Ok, Laphroiag, you're out. That's it. Pack my case. “

What's In Your 12 Bottle Case?: Bartholomew Broadbent

2012-02-08T16:36:00.000-08:00

It’s a fascinating question, one that is often asked---right behind the unanswerable “What’s your favorite spirit?”---and one that requires a little thinking: If you had to limit your available spirits to one case, 12 bottles, which 12 would you choose?

The answers, it turns out, are always different. And the choices reveal much about the people making them.

The ‘rules’ were simple: Only 12 bottles, any spirits you wish, and they don’t have to include bitters (they’re small, so they’ll fit in to your case anyway, and we didn’t want to make it too difficult). You can think of it as your “marooned on a desert island” or “basic home bar” or simply the spirits that are most essential to you personally.

Bartholomew Broadbent is so eloquent and detailed in the comments regarding his 12 bottle case, we’ll let him speak for himself. (His long and illustrious bio follows.)

1. Pimm’s

As I was growing up, I was drinking wine with dinner from the age of 7. My parents put me off spirits, by saying that it would stunt my growth, but when I tasted Pimm’s, it was so delicious that I decided the risk worth taking. In England, there are two drinks which would be considered quintessentially British, in the winter, G&T [gin and tonic] in the summer, Pimm’s. Pimm’s is only served one way: Pimm’s No1, lemonade, cucumber, mint, orange, apple, lemon and ice. In America, referred to as Pimm’s Cup, in the UK it is simply Pimm’s.

A bit of spiritual history here: At one time there were several Pimm’s Cup Recipes available, each with a different spirit and each with a different number. Over the years, however, the offerings dwindled and now only the gin-based Pimm’s Cup #1 survives commercially. The sole unvarying companion to Pimm’s Cup #1 in the U.S. seems to be the ubiquitous cucumber slice.

2. Grand Marnier

Mostly when on holiday but, for instance, last night settled down in front of Downton Abbey, Grand Marnier is my perfect night cap,

3. Gin

Gin, the ubiquitous English spirit, not just for a G&T but also my preference as a substitute to vodka in a Bloody Mary. Not too worried about the brand as long as it is high octane, at least 43% alcohol by volume. It happens that I currently have The Original Bombay on my butler’s tray but I am a fan of Beefeater because my mother had a close friendship with the owner until he sold it to a big company. More important than the brand of gin, the brand of tonic; if it is isn’t Schweppes, I can always tell.

4. Pisco

Pisco Sour, when made properly with egg white and all, is delicious, perhaps pulling on my cultural subconscious because both my maternal grandparents were born in Chile. More often referred to as Peruvian, a traditional recipe would include 2 oz. pisco, 1 tablespoon sugar, 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice, 1 teaspoon pasteurized egg whites, beaten.

5. L’Arack de Musar

Aniseed macerated traditional Lebanese digestive made at my favorite winery, Chateau Musar. L’Arack de Musar will be made available in the US later in 2012. It drinks well neat and acts as a fantastic mixer for the avant-garde mixologists.

6. Broadbent 10 year Malmsey Madeira

I was asked to list a case to take to a desert island… there is only one wine which is indestructible enough to survive the heat, assuming we were stranded on a warm island, that wine is: Madeira. Since I produce my own, why not take one that I know to be perfect. It is the most versatile wine, brilliant with cigars, goes with any dessert and is fine on its own, after dinner, or watching the ships sail by.

7. Ferreira Duque de Braganca 20 year Tawny Port

Port is an essential after dinner drink. The Ferreira Duque de Braganca 20 year tawny is the benchmark of all tawny Ports and no self respecting bar would be without it. On its own, with nuts, with cigars, with coffee, with most desserts, always great.

8. Rum

I’m a huge fan of rum drinks, white or brown, depending on the mix. Before lunch or dinner, in any city, a Mojito! Any number of tropical rum drinks in the heat of the summer or tropics. I’m not so concerned about the brand as long as it is full strength and mixed with good ingredients.

9. Lillet

As an aperitif, Lillet is one of the more satisfying, made in the Bordeaux district by a winemaking family, it is classic, timeless and elegant. Add a twist of lime and ice.

10. Hennessy Cognac

I worked for Hennessy, my first job after high school, so I have a soft spot for this Cognac house. There, I was an interpreter and tour guide. With the VIPs, we’d mix all Hennessy, with the exception of Paradis and XO, to orange juice. It is especially beneficial to drink when nursing a cold. As a VIP tour guide, aged 18, Hennessy training should have included “how to entertain clients with Cognac and still make it home on the Solex [company supplied moped] navigating ancient cobbled streets”.

11. Tequila

Margaritas, of course. I like to support wines and spirits from producers with whom I’ve been acquainted, so Cabo Wabo would be my choice.

12. My last bottle?

Vintage Port, Elixir Végétal de la Grande Chartreuse, Scotch, Calvados … too many choices!

I can only take one, so it would have to be a mature Vintage Port. Any brand works fine for me, as young as Quinta do Crasto 1995 or as old as Ferreira 1815. Served, always, with Stilton cheese.

Bartholomew Broadbent apprenticed with The Worshipful Company of Distillers and worked for Hennessy Cognac and Schenley Canada but his career is mostly in wine. In June 1997 Decanter magazine named him one of the “fifty most influential in the wine world…the faces to watch in the new millennium”, reaffirmed by Wine&Spirits magazine [2008], who polled leaders throughout the industry, naming him one of ten in the world to be “driving the most revolutionary changes in wine”. Today, he has expanded from his pivotal role in the breathtaking growth of Port and Madeira to “exert a profound influence on the US wine market” says Decanter. He was profiled by Wine Spectator in 1986, Market Watch “The Pioneer of Port” in May 2008 and Forbes.com [2009]. Bartholomew, son of legendary Michael Broadbent, is now one of America’s leading national wine importers, Broadbent Selections, Inc., based in San Francisco, [www.broadbent.com], representing such famous brands as Chateau Musar. His speaking circuit includes major cruise lines, wine festivals, including Food&Wine’s Classic in Aspen [for 25 years]. He is KFOG’s “Wine Guy” and hosts a webtv show atwww.IntoWine.com. He makes Port, Madeira and Vinho Verde in Portugal under the Broadbent name, as well as Malbec in Argentina and Gruner Veltliner in Austria. He was a 50% partner in Dragon's Hollow, a pioneering winery in China, and launched the first nationally available Chinese wine to the US market. He can be followed on www.facebook.com/broadbentselections .

Affordable Elegance: Olivier Leflaive "Les Setilles" Bourgogne Blanc 2009

2012-02-08T09:55:00.000-08:00

Olivier Leflaive “Les Setilles” Bourgogne Blanc, 2009

Start with a respected Burgundian producer who has the ability to select from some of the finest parcels in two of the most prestigious communes for chardonnay in all of Burgundy, the homeland of chardonnay.

Blend and mature those parcels to precise and exacting standards---what the Burgundians call élevage, elevating or lifting up the wine--- and release it at a remarkably low price.

That’s a formula for success.

That’s what Olivier Leflaive does with the Les Setilles Bourgogne Blanc 2009. It’s rare when you find a wine of this quality sporting the humble and unassuming “Bourgogne Blanc” moniker. That’s usually seen on more modest, and, well, unassuming wines.

Although the names of Puligny-Montrachet and Meursault, two bastions of Premier Cru and Grand Cru chardonnays, don’t appear on the label, chardonnay from those two are what is inside the bottle.

Leflaive carefully selects from the two communes to achieve roughly a 70% Puligny-Montracher/30% Meursault balance, with Meursault contributing the plump roundness and Puligny-Montrachet the mineral austerity to the pairing.

Leflaive further shows its wisdom by using carefully restrained oak influence in the Les Setilles: this is a chardonnay where the fruit is allowed---encouraged, enabled---to shine through clearly and boldly, with only the lightest hint of vanilla oak to enhance the wine.

Remarkably floral in the nose, fresh and bright, with squirts of lemon zest, this is an enticing chardonnay from start to pleasant finish. The true signal of quiet quality, though, comes through after the taste, when you realize that you’re no longer looking at the elements of the wine, but appreciating the wine for what it is in total. And that’s because the elements come together so seamlessly, in such poised balance, that you stop noticing the details and simply enjoy the wine.

As a final grace note, LeFlaive prices the Les Setilles at a very reasonable price, so you can enjoy more of it. It is Leflaive’s best-selling chardonnay offering, and it’s a steal. And a shame that more people don’t know about it.

Olivier LeFlaive Burgundies are imported to the U.S. by Frederick Wildman Imports.

Hey, Bartender? Learn how to spell.

2012-02-07T20:22:00.000-08:00

Hey, Bartender?

You’re a professional, right? You like to look sharp and act sharp. You pride yourself on being the pro when you’re behind the bar. So would you please learn how to spell what you’re selling?

One thing that makes a pro look like an amateur is carelessness. And one of the first ways to spot a sloppy amateur or a less-than-professional bartender is what goes out on the cocktail menu in print or digital form for all to see.

The cocktail menu is the first thing the customer sees. Even worse: when it’s on the website, it’s what the public sees before they even get into your bar. First impressions are crucial; and looking sloppy in your first impression puts you so far behind the curve you may never struggle your way back.

Remember: if it's worth putting on the menu, it's worth your time to spell it correctly.

Believe it or not, there are more people than you might think that catch spelling errors, and those people think it’s indicative of being careless…or worse, uneducated. And if you’re so careless in that regard, then what does it say about the rest of what you do?

We’re not talking about your intelligence here; this has nothing to do with how smart you are---quite a few talented and smart people simply don’t spell very well. It’s just not on their wavelength. It’s well known that some people’s brains function differently than others; there are numerous examples of perfectly smart people who have mild learning difficulties, transposing letters and words and such. That can be corrected though.

You don’t even have to learn how to spell. Just get a good, reliable editor (or three or four, just to make sure) before you hit the print button and commit yourself. Every good writer has a good editor. Every bad writer lacks a good editor to tell him what to do and what not to do. It’s the equivalent of looking in the mirror, just to make sure, when you’re primping up to go out. Or better yet, have your buds check you out to see you won’t embarrass yourself. But get a bud that knows how to spell, okay?

Heck, just make sure you use word processing software that has Spell-Check function and make sure it’s turned on. That alone would catch many, if not most, of your errors.

What am I talking about? Let’s go over some examples from actual cocktail menus. (Names of places and people redacted so as not to unnecessarily embarrass anyone.)

“Angoustura” and “Pechauds” bitters --numerous examples found. C’mon. This is basic stuff to bartenders. Or should be. If you don’t know how to spell it when you use it every day, then you’re not very detail oriented, are you? Angostura. Peychaud’s.

“scottish whiskey” –oh, for shame, for shame. You’ve managed to alienate two of the most dedicated groups here, Scotsmen and whisky lovers: it’s Scotch, not Scottish; and it’s whisky, not whiskey. Scots and Scotch whisky drinkers are particular about this; sometimes to the point of being surly.

“Cherry Herring” --so…do they marinate the fish in cherry sauce and throw it into the cocktail or pour it through a strainer? Herring is a fish; Cherry Heering is a liqueur from Scandinavia with cherry flavor.

“Cocnac” –no, I believe the correct term is Cognac. The people that live there, and the people that make that particular brandy, are very picky about how they want the name spelled.

“Pineapple gum” and “grapfruit” –The first sounds like you may have put a stick of pineapple flavored gum in your cocktail, instead of ‘gomme’, which is a flavored syrup. The second is inexcusable---heck, it’s in the basic autocorrect function in Word that instantly changes when you’re typing. And it’s not like it’s an unusual or esoteric fruit.

“Worceshtershire sauce” ---okay, admittedly this would be easy to commit a typo on, but since it makes you sound like you were tipsy and lisping when you wrote it, well, fail.

“Citronage” ---this is actually a brand name. Which you’ve spelled wrong. Actually, you spelled it wrong three times on the menu, and then spelled it once correctly---on the same menu. So much for consistency; hope you don’t make your cocktails the same way. The name is “Citronge.” More properly, it is “Citrónge” if you follow the official brand name, but French diacritical marks are so rare these days, we could let that go.

That’s enough. You get the picture. Be a pro. Take care of the fine details to sure you look like one. And that includes checking your spelling. People notice if you don’t.

What's In Your 12 Bottle Case?: Lance Mayhew, Oregon Culinary Institute

2012-02-07T18:02:00.000-08:00

Lance Mayhew is a sophisticated man when it comes to spirits. A former chef (and still avid home chef), restaurant manager, bar manager, beverage manager, and a top-notch craft bartender, he is now a lead instructor at the prestigious Oregon Culinary Institute in Portland, Oregon. He is also a frequent contributor and elegant commentator on all matters spiritual to a number of magazines and internet sites (try Whisked Foodie to see an example) and, as a writer, has the ability to sample pretty much anything he wishes (and often before any of the rest of us have access to it.)

Although he is more than conversant with the cocktail scene, when he drinks he tends to prefer his spirits neat. When he does choose cocktails, he is usually quite specific about what he wants in those cocktails.

So with all the spirit world at his command, what does Lance like in his private stash? Here are Lance’s choices for his 12 Bottle Case of Spirits:

Absolut Vodka (For Bloody Marys)

Plymouth Gin (Can't live without Plymouth)

Beefeater Gin (Martinis)

Flor De Cana 4yr Silver Rum (Daiquiris)

Cazadores Reposado Tequila (totally versatile)

Aberlour Scotch (can't decide which marque)

The GLENLIVET 15yr Single Malt Scotch (nice spice)

Laphroaig 10yr Islay Single Malt Scotch (Need an Islay representative)

Yamazaki 18yr Japanese Whisky (So good, I dream about it)

Woodford Reserve Kentucky Bourbon (Gotta have a great bourbon on hand!)

Old Rittenhouse Rye Whiskey (Best rye out there, IMHO)

Martell Cordon Bleu Cognac (For cold winter nights)

So in the final analysis, one vodka, two gins, one light rum, one tequila, three different scotch whisky iterations, a Japanese Whisky (which is scotch-like), a singular Bourbon, a Kentucky Rye, and a Cognac.

It’s obvious that Lance prefers the brown spirits to the white and appreciates the effect of oak barrel aging (9 of the 12 are aged spirits).

Four of the whiskies are either scotch or scotch-like, in that they are made from malted barley---and the two American whiskies are renowned for their rye-spiced nature and oak barrel aging.

Although there is no precise age statement on the cognac, the Martell Cordon Bleu is considered a blend of approximately 25 year old eaux-de-vie, with an emphasis on the softer, more rounded cognacs of the Borderies area. The Flor de Caña Rum is 4 years old, and Cazadores Reposado Tequila has a brief “resting in the barrel” of only two months. Only the vodka and two gins are un-aged spirits.

This is a key item list with highly assertive flavors---notice there are no liqueurs here---and assuming Lance’s island or den has a sufficiency of bitters and the necessary selection of fresh fruits, this selection has the capability of many of the great classic cocktails, as well as a source of some sublime singular sipping. I just hope he has a bottle of white and a bottle of sweet vermouth hidden away somewhere.

Lance Mayhew brings over 20 years experience in the hospitality field. In addition to being bartender/bar manager/ wine director in high-volume restaurants such as Sacramento's Ricci's Restaurant and Portland's Meriwether's, 50 Plates, and Beaker & Flask, Lance has also managed the front of the house - responsible for hiring, training, and scheduling. His original cocktails have been featured in publications including MIX Magazine, Imbibe Magazine, The Bartenders Gin Compendium, and Left Coast Libations; and he's discussed bartending and mixology for publications including the The NY Times, Chilled, MIX, and The Oregonian. In 2008, the Beverage Network named him one of America's "Ten Trendsetting Mixologists". Lance not only brings extensive product knowledge of wine, beer, liquor and food to teaching at Oregon Culinary Institute; but extensive hospitality experience as well. Lance was part of the inaugural class of 2010's Wine Location Specialists (the first of 19 people to achieve this distinction in North America) and is certified by the Society of Wine Educators as a Certified Specialist of Spirits. Lance is the former contributing writer for About.com on whisky and professional bartending and is an experienced journalist, contributing to publications such as Tasting Panel Magazine and Imbibe Magazine. Lance is an active member of the Society of Wine Educators, the French Wine Society and the International Association for Culinary Professionals and frequently conducts wine and spirit dinners for the local community. Lance has appeared as a guest speaker at a number of culinary festivals and trade shows bringing his knowledge and insight of the world of wine and spirits to people around the country. Lance currently serves as the resident expert for all things wine, spirits and mixology for WhiskedFoodie.com.

What's In Your 12 Bottle Case? Chris Morris, Master Distiller

2012-02-05T14:57:00.000-08:00

Chris Morris,
Master Distiller

Chris Morris is one of a very few Master Distillers in the U.S. Spend more than a couple of minutes with him and you understand why he’s in that august position. He’s a rare soul who has a firm grasp of the science and mechanics of his trade, reinforced with a deep historical knowledge of the practices, the places and the people that have populated that trade, and completed by an intense romantic appreciation for it all. Quite simply, he’s a man who loves what he does and is exceptionally good at it; the ideal combination of craftsman and artist.

His profound knowledge of the entire world of spirits focuses on what he does: he is the Master Distiller for Woodford Reserve Kentucky Bourbon and the venerable Old Forester Kentucky Bourbon. Thus it is understandable that his list would include those spirits he makes or with which he is professionally associated.

The choices for rounding out his 12 bottle case are interesting as well, and are easily explained by Chris in his usual straightforward and direct style:

“As you know I appreciate intense flavor, unique flavor and brands that have honest, authentic stories.”

Intense, unique flavor and honest, authentic stories. That’s a pretty good basis for a 12 bottle case, I’d say.

Here are Chris’ choices, with his own narration:

Sweet Vermouth: an old favorite, Noilly Prat from France.

Bourbon: Woodford Reserve Kentucky Bourbon --Complex but balanced and so very versatile. The brand that has championed the Mint Julep and Manhattan cocktails.

Old Forester Signature 100 Proof Kentucky Bourbon -- for an old fashioned. America's oldest bourbon brand deserves a spot in the third and last of America's classic three bourbon drinks since it has long been the brand used at the birthplace of the drink, the famous Pendennis Club in Louisville.

Tennessee Whiskey: There’s nothing more unique than Jack Daniel's. Great in high balls.

Scotch: Ardbeg --The peaty giant of a single malt from Islay. Famous Grouse - a spicy blend.

Gin: Bombay Sapphire --clean and crisp for a refreshing Gin and Tonic.

Rum: The white has to be the classic Bacardi, so light and delicate. The dark - any of the Appleton Estates with their lengthy oak exposure.

Tequila: For Blanco, Herradura Silver with its unique barrel mellowed character. [Ed. Note: Herradura traditionally places their Silver tequila in barrels for 45 days; most white tequilas are not aged in any way.] Reposada - El Jimador, very spicy and brash. Aged - the biggest of all, Seleccion Suprema by Herradura. [Ed. Note: Herradura essentially created the Extra Añejo designation with Seleccion Suprema. Extra Añejo describes a tequila that is aged in excess of three years; Seleccion Suprema is currently aged for 49 months before release.]

I believe that makes an even dozen.

Chris apparently likes his spirits both neat and in cocktails, since he mentions five classics (Manhattan, Mint Julep, Old Fashioned, the Highball, and Gin & Tonic). But the cocktails cited stay true to his dictum of “intense flavors” as well.

Two bourbons, one Tennessee whiskey, a single malt and a blended scotch, a London Dry Gin, a white rum, an aged rum, and three iterations of tequila. Add a classic sweet vermouth for that all important Manhattan, and you’ve got an even dozen from a Master Distiller.

What's In Your 12 Bottle Case?

2012-02-05T08:57:00.000-08:00

What's In Your 12 Bottle Case?:

Mike Filigenzi, Spirits Connoisseur and Cocktailier

The answers, it turns out, are always different. And the choices reveal much about the people making them.

Mike Filigenzi is an affable and easy-going guy from Northern California with a well developed palate. He maintains, with a disarming smile, that he’s simply a guy who likes to put anything that tastes good into his mouth, given his passion for food, wine and cocktails. What he doesn’t bother to tell you about is his fine tuned palate and his frequent presence on several wine and food internet forums, where he is acknowledged as a wise advisor with significant experience. He lives in Sacramento with his wife and two daughters.

Here’s Mike’s contribution to 12 Bottle Case:

This is a great little exercise. It made me think. It will be interesting to see what other responses you get to this, from both the pros and the dedicated amateurs such as myself.

Here's what I've come up with. It reflects what I've tried and liked over the years as well as the fact that I rarely sip neat spirits - they're pretty much always mixed into cocktails.

Gin: Tanqueray

Rye: Rittenhouse Bonded and Willett Single Barrel
Bourbon: Woodford Reserve Kentucky Bourbon

Rum: Havana Club 15 Años and Lemon Hart Demerara

Tequila: Orendain Anniversario Extra-Añejo 8yo

Cognac: Camus XO (This is the one that I would not mix!)

Liqueurs: Cointreau, Luxardo Maraschino, Campari

Vermouth: Carpano Antica Formula Sweet Vermouth

Also rans: Fernet Branca, Dolin dry Vermouth.

One other note: If my wife is stranded with me, then the Willett Rye gets switched to Courvoisier VSOP for the Brandy Manhattans. [Mike’s wife is originally from Wisconsin, where they drink a lot of brandy---so much so that unless you specify when ordering a Manhattan or Old Fashioned, you’ll probably get a brandy version.]

Mike’s preference for mixed drinks and cocktails is pretty obvious, what with picking very mixable spirits and then putting in three liqueurs and a vermouth to round out the twelve. He's obviously a rye lover when it comes to whiskey too, with two hearty rye whiskies and Woodford Reserve, a definitive 'rye heavy bourbon' as his three selections in that category.

Even better were he allowed to sneak in the Fernet Branca and Dolin Vermouth, but of course he would never break the rules!

All in all, a well-selected 12 bottle case.

2012-02-04T20:41:00.000-08:00

Nathan Gerdes at work and play

What's in your 12 bottle case?:

Nathan Gerdes, Craft Bartender

The answers, it turns out, are always different. And the choices reveal much about the people making them.

First one to answer the question was Nathan Gerdes, Bar Manager at H50 Bar & Bistro in Portland. Nathan is a meticulous professional, thoughtful and precise and immensely knowledgeable about his craft. His approach to the question, and his thoughtful reply, is characteristic. Nathan even goes one step further: he gives you his 12 bottle case, then narrows it down to his Final Four for his desert island adventure!

Cadenhead's Old Raj GIn

“Tough one. Mainly because my “essentials bar” isn’t the same as my “stuck on a desert island bar”. For me, essentials means picking out the best representatives of each category and filling your space with the most versatile liqueurs to allow you to make the most quality drinks with such a limited supply of ingredients.

For that, my collection would include:

Vodka– Nope, sorry; I need the space for other bottles

Gin– Old Raj 55%

Michter's

Whiskey– Michter’s 10yr Rye, Caol Ila Islay Scotch, Eagle Rare Kentucky Bourbon

Tequila– Arette Blanco, Fortaleza Reposado

Caol Ila Single Malt

Rum– Smith and Cross Traditional Jamaican Pot Still Rum

Brandy– Tesseron Grande Champagne Cognac, Lot 53 “Perfection”

Vermouth– Dolin Blanc, Carpano Antica Formulae

Liqueurs– Chartreuse Green VEP, Gran Classico Bitters

Fortaleza Tequila

Bitters– All of them (since they magically take up no space in my case in this situation)

Tesseron Lot. 53

So long as I had access to fresh fruits, juices and some basic syrups I should be able to make most any cocktail with that list (vodka excluded obviously).

There is little extra description for why I chose my selections other than they are all very high quality, they represent their category well, and they don’t repeat flavor profiles with other bottles, giving me the most versatility for my 12 bottle bar. This, for example, is why although I love Rhum JM’s VSOP, it is not on my list – it’s too similar to a tequila crossed with a cognac.

P.S. My “stuck on a desert island bar” is nice and simple. It consists of 4 magical flasks that are never empty. One filled with Michters 10yr Rye, one filled with Rhum J M VSOP, one filled with Gran Classico Bitters, and one filled with fresh lime juice (for scurvy).”

You can find Nathan most often at the H50 Bar & Bistro, and occasionally at the Thatch Tiki Bar, both in Portland OR; he’ll be the friendly guy behind the bar.

What would be in your 12 bottle case? Feel free to join in with your recommendations.

2012-02-01T20:05:00.000-08:00

Cassoulet Dinner 2012, Part 2: The Main Event

One of the great things about BettyLu’s Cassoulet Dinner---for the guests anyway---is the simplicity of it. Not for BL or Lou, because it’s a major undertaking to make things look as simple as they are. But for the guests, it’s the casual and easy chatting of old acquaintances you perhaps don’t see as often as you used to (or as you’d like), some outstanding wines and tasty bites to slide into the evening pleasantly, then a quiet segue into the formally set dining room.

So, Let Us Segue…

Ten is the right number for a dinner party, I think. The room is filled, but not crowded. The table is set to perfection, and not overcrowded. And it’s manageable, without any feel of yelling over to someone at the other end. It’s comfortably intimate.

Lou gets our attention with the first couplet he brings out, two pristine bottles of Bollinger Grande Annee 1985. Yes, brothers and sisters, I said 1985. I doublechecked. Tiny bubbles, in the wine, make you feel happy, make you feel fine. Tiny bubbles, make you glad all over… A handsome wine, fully mature but not at all faded, still bright and lively but bronzing up beautifully, with that big, bold, fleshy Bollinger taste, slipping quietly and smoothly into light caramel and zesty orange, still prickly with acidity. It recalls, in brief flickering flashes, some memories of some great times with the ’85 vintage, with Bollinger, always one of my favorites, and curiously enough with Charles Hiedsieck 1985 as well. What a wonderful thing wine can be, to bring back the past, if even in passing, and to be able to revive pleasant memories.

Loveliness Is

There’s a bit of a hush in the room, as there should be for such a wine, I think; it’s definitely appreciated by all. (Anisman may have appreciated it more than anyone, but Bree is not following far behind.)

And just as we’re getting acquainted with the Bollinger, the first course arrives, a silky smooth Lobster Bisque with a creamy, slightly spicy bisque studded with plump bits of lobster. The Bollinger is a perfect foil for the bisque, cutting through the cream and the fat and leaving the palate clear for another delicious bite.

Bisque Business

There’s no hurry to this meal; we’re all mellowed by the splendid wine and the bisque, so we chat and laugh. All good meals should be as communally pleasant as this; really, this is what fine dining should be about, but often isn’t, either too formal or stilted or clumsy. This is a pleasant and natural flow of an evening.

Jam, eh?

At just the right moment, when the empty plates are being cleared and we’re all catching our breath, Lou brings out two bottles of Cote Rotie Jamet, 1998. Has it been so long we’ve been doing this that we’re up to the ‘98s? I suppose it has.

The Cote Rotie is still tight, nicely structured and reluctant to emerge, but there are dried flowers and some decent tart fruit and just a touch of bacon fat, which of course makes it harmonious with the cassoulet.

Bandol the run

There’s a backup wine to handle the seconds too! (Not clear whether someone brought it or Lou just had it handy.) It’s a Domaine Tempier Bandol 1993! Big broad flavors with the moo of mourvedre, it’s standard Catalan-Gallic bombast of Bandol, loaded with black fruit and licorice and tinged with dusty herbs and only slowly yielding its hidden secrets.

Both wines are remarkable companions for the star of the evening, BettyLu’s Cassoulet. Since we’ve waited all year, there’s anticipation for what it will be---Has she changed anything? Has she used any different ingredients? Is the texture or the spice or the fat or the tarbais-toothiness intact?

The Cassoulet Arrives...

Cassoulet, First Helping

It’s obvious the garlic sausage of last year has made a comeback; the wafting aroma is mouth-watering. And the chunks of confit and fat glistening sausages are irresistible; the beans are al dente as they should be, slightly chewy and sticky on the teeth and full and bursting with flavor in the mouth. Cassoulet is such a satisfying dish, rustic in the sense of originating as a country farmhouse meal ‘from the provinces’, but sophisticated in its flavors and composition. More than that though, there is a umami-ish fullness of aroma and flavor and texture from all the protein and fat you’re steadily consuming. It’s about as high level comfort food as you can get, And honestly, not just because I’m seeking favor so I’ll get invited back, but yes, that too: BettyLu’s is the best, the finest, of all I’ve had over the years.

Years ago, one of my favorite chefs, Dean Fearing from Texas, while gobbling down a bean-based dish I did at a tasting/dinner, commented that “this is one of those really satisfying things people can, and should, do well at in their own kitchens, but they don’t.” (Dean was a Kentucky boy and cassoulet-ish dishes were his personal idea of childhood heaven, but probably with squirrel or possum or such.) He was right; they often don’t do this as well as it should be done. BL does it about as good as it can be done.

The fat of the dish broadens out and softens up the tight knit Cote Rotie, coaxing out the flavors, and the wine keeps the cassoulet from dominating and snaps the palate back for more. The Bandol is simply more accommodating with its broader, more herby/fruity lavishness. The Rotie is closer to the principle of contrast, austere but yielding; the Bandol to similarity, fat and rich on an equal plane.

It’s a tough call as to whether the Jamet or the Tempier perform better with the cassoulet, honestly. I'd go with the Jamet myself, but it's close. They’re so different, yet each has its individual appeal with the meal. The Jamet is tighter, less yielding (in a Cornas sort of way, if that makes sense), but with infinite depth and finish to it. The Bandol is fatter, glossier, friendlier and more amenable to the food without ever losing its black fruit and spice nature. Hey, toss up. They’re both great.

Several second helpings later (don’t they feed Anisman at home, or does he fast in preparation for BL’s Cassoulet?), the oohing and ahhing and pleasant clinking of silverware on china subsides and we all settle down into quiet murmurs, reflecting, lingering while we toy with the wine stems, sated for the moment.

But we bestir ourselves, for there is, of course, a cheese course. Good, crusty, chewy homemade bread and three slices of rich and pungent cheese. And then dessert. Of course.

The Good One

Lou brings out the Port… it’s a Grahams 1983 Vintage. Oh, yay.

But wait, something is amiss!!! There’s a bit of a perplexed frown creasing Alan’s brow, then one eyebrow slowly arches in quizzical fashion; glances are exchanged down at that end of the table. First Alan, then Roxi, then Jason. Throats are cleared. Jason quietly speaks up, for no one will gainsay his portliness on this matter (heh). That bottle of Grahams, it appears, is corked.

Alan proffers a glass; yes, it’s so, and so sad too, for the other bottle is exactly what it should be, all silky and sinful. Without a blink, Lou jumps up and is back with another wine, for this was the last of the Grahams 1983. Fortunately there was enough in the one bottle for all of us to have at least a taste. The backup bottle is no slouch either, of course, this being Lou’s cellar.

The Great One

Jason immediately brightens---this is one of his all time favorites, and he’s opined about it frequently over the years---and the loss of the Grahams is assuaged for him, and I think for the others as well, for this is a rare treat indeed. It’s the Ferreira Duque de Bragança 20 Year Old Tawny Port! This is truly one of the great ones, boys and girls. It’s orange rind and apricot weathered wood and toasty brown sugar, with a whiff of caramel behind it, but really more of a maple bar donut kinda thing. Mick Jagger could do a serious sticky fingers on this one (dooda doo doo, insert Keith riff), with a little hit of toffee and coffee and marzipan almond. There’s a reason this is the benchmark of aged tawny port. It's evident right here in this glass.

For the Lactose Tolerant

The Cheese and Port Interlude

The cheeses were---as best I can recall---a Bleu d’Auvergne, an English Stilton, and a Neal’s Yard Shropshire Blue Cheddar. Since the Bishop of Norwich wasn’t there, Jason was happy.

Dessert To Bring It Home

No, thank you. Couldn't possibly.
Oh, maybe one more.
Thank you.

BL was going easy on us this night; she and her sexy sous chef had prepared hand rolled truffle chocolates with crushed nuts, just the sort of nibbly and sensous indulgence we need at this point: tasty and rich but not too much. And they’re small, so if we want to (we want to; we want to) eat a couple, we can rationalize it and it doesn’t add too much more weight than we’ve already taken on tonight. Sinful pleasures are best when they’re sinful and you know you shouldn’t but you do anyway, right?

And finally, it’s time. We’ve devoured all that was in front of us, we’ve chatted all night, the eyes are beginning to glaze and the eyelids are getting heavier by the moment. We’re replete. And everybody has to make it home (Jason and Lynn all the way to Berkeley!), And so we all thank Lou and BettyLu for their splendid hospitality on this most perfect of evenings, and plan on meeting again next year, and say our goodbyes for now.

And so Goodnight

Kudos to the Chef, BettyLu, for the inspiration and the work. And to Lou for the peerless wines. And for having the good sense to marry BettyLu. And Kevin for the faultless and friendly service which allowed BL to spend her time with us at table, being gracious. The Kessler Cassoulet is always a highlight of the year for those who attend, and this year, once again, BL and Lou pulled it off magnificently.

2012-01-30T15:02:00.000-08:00

Cassoulet 2012, Part 1: The Readiness Is All

It wasn’t hard for us to get on the plane. Cold and wet in Portland; dry and sunny in SoNapanoma. Nope, not difficult at all. Especially when the short trip was to culminate in BettyLu’s Cassoulet Dinner. Double incentives, as it were.

Yep, another year had passed and the first signal event of the new year was at hand. This is one dinner we insist on attending---as long as they keep inviting us; we’ll be there!

Roxi was assisting BL this year as scullery maid and sous chef, hoping to give BL just a bit of relief. That gave me a ringside seat, along with my host Lou, the other supervisor, into the mass of details that goes into preparing a home dinner for ten.

Roxi, Sous Chef du Jour

Of course, BL had been meticulously planning and preparing for this meal for several months, and Roxi and I were seeing only the last couple of days, but busy days they were. The two of them toiled in the kitchen endlessly, making sure every single element of the meal was to BettyLu’s exacting standards. Best of all, they seemed to be having fun doing it.

Lou and I were exhausted.

But it was finally coming on to the time when the guests would start arriving. All was in readiness (and as Shakespeare says, the readiness is all.)

To ease us into the evening, Lou had already opened a Fiano di Avellino, Colli di Lapio Romano Clelia, 2009. Unfortunately it didn’t get the attention it deserved (there was a football game on, and we were doubly counting down minutes), but it was bright and lovely, crisp and lemony-fruity with a little almond flower and a corresponding light lift of minerality to it. Very pleasant.

As our dinner companions, all familiar from past years, chatted and hugged, we settled in to a night of camaraderie, great food, and great wine. Acerbic Alan Bree was there, with the lovely Katrina. The good doctor, Mark Anisman, showed up with a smiling Mariko (who we missed last year because of her charity work for the Japanese tsunami). The legendary Jason Brandt Lewis and his legal adviser, renowned Berkeley Barrister Lynn Gorelick, arrived. Since it was Jason, he arrived with a bottle in hand (tequila, not wine) and a detailed story on his lips. With Roxi and me, and our hosts, that made ten.

When the guests arrived, Lou had the wines prepped and in full array. It was an intriguing line up of whites for our delectation. A returning champion, fondly remembered, the do Ferreira Albariño Cepas Vellas, Rias Baixas, 2006 was shiveringly good, richer and more taut than a ‘regular’ Albariño ever could be, what with its massive, almost brobdingnagian old vines yielding little of volume but much of flavor. The best and brightest and deepest Albariño I’ve ever had, for sure.

Another repeat performance, and again applauded for its startling ability to alter as it ages, constantly showing a changing face of Sauvignon Blanc, from crisp intensity to the softness of sage, from gunflint (no, seriously) to plump melons, once again a standout for its profound ability to age, the always appreciated Sancerre Chavignol Clos la Neore, 2008, by Edmond Vatan stood proudly on the bar.

Little Orange

Almost in counterpoint a new Young Turk shows up. It’s the Cowan Cellars Isa Sauvignon Blanc, Lake County, 2010. For an upstart from some young whippersnapper named Jim Cowan, it actually holds its own in company with the Neore. It’s a skin-fermented Sauvignon, what you might call Baby Orange wine as it is young for such and just now peeking out. It would be interesting to track the development of this infant to see what happens here. There is much in the way of promise.

A bit softer, but not by much, and certainly rounder and fatter, sort of like a stolid German hausfrau, a little heavy on pounds but packed with power, the Weingut Köfererhof Kerner, 2009, is something of a revelation that could only come, I believe, from that curious combination of Alpine Deutsch-Italien particular to the Trentino-Alto Adige. Take a grape that hasn’t shown much in another place and make it something special and interesting in this place; that seems to be the beau ideal for the Alto-Adige, doesn’t it? This Kerner has depth I’ve never been able to attribute to the variety before.

Herb Crackers, pre-baking

Interlude: Keep in mind that while we were drinking these lovely beverages, there was fascinating conversation---I will remind you that JBL, Bree and Anisman were in residence and in fine form, and Lou got his timely comment in every now and then, and none of the ladies was in the least bit shy to tell any of us we were full of it---and our hostess was plying us with some tasty tidbits while giving the impression that, la di da, she had just whipped them up on the spur of the moment, it was nothing. I knew better, of course, as I had watched BL and Roxi prepare them.

Passing in constant succession were spicy herb crackers (like me, rolled by Roxi), habit forming little squares that set off the wine perfectly; deep-fried arancini balls, crispy outside and creamy-oozy in; chutney and currant spread on pita bread (yum); prosciutto and melted teleme cheese on sesame rounds, and chile and lime crab on water crackers with chive dressing.

The aperitif WOTN had to be the astonishing and audacious Lopez de Heredia Viña Tondonia Reserva “White”, Rioja, 1992. If the Cowan Isa was Baby Orange, this is the Big Orange, what all other orange wines should aspire to. More a brassy brownish yellow than orange, of course. And most lovers of squeaky-clean-wine-to-look-at wine would be offput by the mere sight of it. “This is white wine? This isn’t white wine. Isn’t it spoiled? Probably way over the hill.”

Big Orange

This wine hasn’t even seen a hill to get over yet. It’s a baby at, what, 19. Okay, it’s an adolescent; I’ll give you that. Amazing and confounding in its profound complexity, the Tondonia is young and brash and middle-aged and mature, both at the same time. There’s obvious oxidation, yes, but it melds into the succulence and chewy grip of the wine in such a way as to be an adjunct to the overall quality and complexity rather than a detractor. It’s oxidative development as a way to deepen the flavors and add new layers of flavors at the same time.

And the key element is there is still plenty of fruit here. And heightened minerality. And sufficient acidity to keep everything bright. Both mellow and vibrant, if you can imagine that. Perhaps a stretch of analogy, but I liken the Tondonia to old copper: there’s a fascinating patina of strangely metallic green that makes the copper more intriguing, but there’s still the gleam and glisten of young and vibrant copper below that. See how a wine can compel us to wax in poor fumbling poesy to explain it?

How do I describe the taste? I don’t. You’ll have to go out and purchase a bottle yourself; this is an experiential wine. Get over your age preconceptions, because this wine will knock them all askew anyway. True, you’ll either like it or hate it; but you will definitely learn something from it. And that’s quite a statement for a bottle of wine, innit.

But enough of the preliminaries, delightful as they were. You’re eager for the Dinner. And you’ll get that narrative when I post, Cassoulet 2012, Part 2: The Main Event.

2011-12-12T18:35:00.000-08:00

Rock and Roll with Wine and Soul in Bordeaux

We were nestled into our tiny but comfortable room at the Hotel Notre Dame in Bordeaux, weary from traveling around the vast area of the region and in need of sustenance. Looking for something more casual than multi-course, more laid-back than formal, we thought we’d give a brand new local place a try. Just around the corner and down a quiet side street we saw the bold orange and black banner of Wine and Soul, so in we went.

The Soul

The proprietors, young and friendly and multilingual, welcomed us proudly and urged us to sit anywhere we wished. Since we had apparently arrived just as the doors opened for business, we had several choices, for the long room was neatly sectioned into different areas. There was the bar up front, the standing tables opposite, the comfortable lounges on one side in the back for larger parties, and the small dining tables adjacent.

Service was immediate and friendly and we shortly had a wine list, our own personal menu board, and a willing waiter to assist us. Our first pleasant surprise was when we learned that the young hip set in Bordeaux is perfectly willing to learn about wines from different regions. Although there was a goodly supply of locally produced wines, there were wines from other French regions, as well as Italian, German, and several Spanish. The waiter, when asked, admitted that Spanish wines were quite the thing currently. We opted for an attractively priced and tempting Austrian, Ried Vogelsang by Heidi Schrock, a juicy, spicy white composed of Welschriesling, Weissburgunder (Pinot Blanc), and Gelber Muskateller.

The Wine

It was aromatic and tasty, but not all that balanced. Had I not been told it was a blend of the three varieties I would have assumed outright it was the musky Muskateller; the Pinot Blanc didn’t assert itself much and the Welschriesling not at all. Hard to divine what Schrock intended with this wine---one assumes it might be the different notes of the three wines in the harmony of a bird’s sweet trill, but it came across more as a repetitive chirp without variation.

The Food

Still and all, the wine was serviceable with the altogether impressive foodstuffs we ordered. First there was the nod to carbohydrates and grease, a delicious bowl of crispy/crunchy pomme frites doused in a light garlic cream and loaded with lardons of chewy pork. Roxi managed a careful self-control with the dish; I didn’t even bother, and dived right in. After all, we had ordered it, and if any was left they’d think we didn’t like it, and that wasn’t polite, was it?

The cheese platter arrived shortly afterwards. No one does fealty to cheese quite as well as the French; they take it seriously. They huge platter was a perfect combination of aromas, flavors and textures: a double layered Morbier with its internal layer of ash; a dark-hued and heavy-skinned wedge of well aged Ste. Nectaire at its peak of flavor; strips of the classic Comté, nutty and toothy; small wedges of nicely cellared Brie, and delicate slices of Tomme de Savoie. Add to that a small ramekin of fruit paste, a mound of candied peanuts and an endless basket of ficelles and you had feast enough for the entire evening.

Of course, we didn’t stop there. We shared a filet of sole with sautéed greens and a white butter sauce, which helped us polish off the bottle of Vogelsang nicely.

Soul, Redux

By then Wine and Soul had filled up with a wide range of people from different age groups, some standing, some lounging, some at the bar---singles, couples, small groups, each in their different orbits, each enjoying themselves over the background noise of the French version of disco-ized American Pop and Rock and Roll. We lingered for a while, for it was cozy and comfortable and friendly.

Local Color and Goodnight

As we wandered out into the narrow side street down to rue Notre Dame, a young man plaintively called up to a pretty and slender young girl leaning out a casement window on the third floor. He was obviously yearning and pleading for entrance, but she would have none of it. Romeo continued to plead his case with increasingly eloquent desperation, but his fair Juliet would have none of it and curtly closed the window on him. As he moped away down the dark and silent street we turned the other way to our hotel replenished with food and wine and soul and ready for bed.

Would we go back? Yes we would. Pleasant, not at all pretentious, a bit adventurous, better than expected food, a wide-ranging wine list and a mellow relaxed vibe. What's not to like?

A shot and a beer---my way

2011-10-24T11:30:00.000-07:00

A Shot and a Beer---My Way!

It had been a long day, most of it standing and moving on tired knees and complaining ankles, with the slow, low ache in the small of the back. A long day, but a good day, a satisfying day with a job well done. Now it was time to relax and reward in a lively but not too loud bar with a little liquid refreshment in good company. It was time for a shot and a beer.

There might be times, I’ll admit, when a standard generic brew and a well shot could work...but this wasn’t one of them. If you’re rewarding and relaxing, you should do it right.

To drink right you have to a good bar. If you happen to be in Anchorage, Alaska, one great place to go is Suite 101 Restaurant and Bar. Good food and a bar worth bellying up to---if you can get to the bar through all the folks that got there before you and don’t want to leave. Go early; this is a mighty popular place!

To drink right you have to order right, and a quick two-second scan of the bar told me that was easily achieved.

The shot was a tight, snappy Manhattan made with Woodford Reserve Kentucky Bourbon, soft and sweet with the obligate corn, supported with the firm body of malted barley and reinforced with the zesty spice of rye (whence cometh the aforementioned snap). There are some aficionados of the Manhattan that prefer a sweeter style of Manhattan, but I’m not one of them---too sweet, the balance of the drink is off, making it a sweet instead of a nervy-taut and spicy cocktail with a noticeable bite.

The beer? Easy, when there’s a tap handle sticking up from the bar that says Stella Artois. They even have the classic Stella glass, tall and fat-bellied with just the right balance in the hand and just the right curve to show off the fine bead. And for the final perfect touch, it’s just the right temperature, chilled but not so cold the taste is obliterated and warming up ever so slowly as you work your way down the glass, and holding just the right gas balance, not too soft, not too sharp. Stella Artois is a great light style from Leuven, Belgium (where they know how to make good beer). Crisp, tangy, yeasty, mild hops, and an all around easy-drinking brew, it was the perfect followup to the Woodford Manhattan.

There’s nothing quite like a shot and a beer after a long day’s work. Especially when you call the right shot and the right beer.

2011-09-04T18:48:00.000-07:00

NxNW: Alfred Hitchcock Would Be Proud

I am conflicted, gentle readers. Long a proponent of labeling multi-varietal wines, and even longer a proponent of more 'truth in labeling' so as to raise the general consciousness gently about what was in those bottles that tasted so good, I come across something like this, a marketer's dream turned into a nightmare of specificity and a mockery of pseudo-geeky cork-dorky regional wine jingoes.

The acronymic umbrella name for the brand I like. It's visual and catchy for a moderate priced wine and grabs the eye to pull you in.

But beyond that, uh?

Let's see: looks like eleven different vineyards contributing fruit here. And of course, we can pick out the influence each had to make this wine what it is. Of course. Especially the three with the contribution of 1% each.

Then we are told these grapes were harvested over a forty-five day period (but vexingly, not when each vineyard was harvested. Why not!)

Further, we find the varietal breakdown of the contents---Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, and Petit Verdot---apparently they could not find any Malbec in time to burnish this mix.

Wait? So now we know the eleven vineyards and their precise percentages. And roughly what time they were harvested (given a month and a half window). And the percentage of varieties in the blend. Okay. Okay. Good information all, I'll admit, although I'm not sure of any usefulness it might have...maybe so I can muse over the relative ripeness of the grapes and whether the seeds when bitten were green or brown? Perhaps. Perhaps. Trouble is, appetite whetted with this overload of information, I now want to know what vineyard grew what grape in what percentage?

And let us not forget the proud declamation of "French & American Oak". Oak must not have sufficient respect though, for the brand to give us specific percentage of how much of each constituted the regimen here. And doesn't everyone want to know which French & American oak---lot of difference imparted between Limousin and Nevers, you know. And surely there must be some Vosges in there? Stylish winemakers all use at least a little bit of Vosges these day, if only to say when asked, "Oh, there's some Vosges, of course. We like those tight grains in the Vosges." Vosges is in vogue in the Northwest.

There's the conflict I suffer. For years I've explained to anyone who would listen (most didn't; they didn't care very much) about providing more information that people might want to know, and providing some of it (more of it) clearly on the front label. And here this label comes along to do much of what I wanted to see---and it emerges as a marketer's jibble jabble, providing a profusion of information that appears to inform, but doesn't, essentially making the information part of the brand image, although the information provides little to no substantive information for the person buying this wine! The old sizzle sans steak rule.

How fitting this is also the name of one of Hitchcock's best flicks, a story where all is not what it appears to be, and of a man who just wants a little explanation and gets smoke and mirrors instead. Imaginative and attractive smoke and mirrors, mind you, but still nothing more than elaborate charades. Ooo, there's another movie that works!!!

Or wait again: maybe this is a cunning effort by the marketers to satisfy the desire of those wine geeks who love nothing more than endless discussion over wine---you know, those people who will bore you to death with the discussion of infinite pinhead-dancing angels regarding esoteric things like biodynamics and natural wine, and speculating avidly over what color Robert Parker's urine was after consuming an entire bottle of Chateau Lynch-Bages 2004? You know. Those people (blush).

(Feel free to tell me I'm making much ado about nothing [Ding. Another one.] or I'm focused on a tempest [Ding.] in a teapot, and should find better things to do than maunder around about this while simultaneously coming up with atrocious puns. But it irritates me. And after all, what are blogs for if not to air out the meaningless irritations of an old guy and waste other people's time?)

[And to my friend Thor, who might but probably won't read this: please note I did not misuse the word "variety"herein. Although I did otherwise mangle and disgrace the language in other ways.]